


Roads Not Taken

by Kayim



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it."<br/><i>--  Jean de La Fontaine</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Roads Not Taken

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Mag7 Daybook Gift Exchange for the request:
> 
> Form of Gift: Fic  
> Genre: Slash or gen  
> 'Verse: Any  
> Character/Pairing: I prefer to receive a story that is Vin-centric. If slash, then C/V or Vin/Josiah. If gen, Vin-centric with Chris, Josiah, Nathan, or Ezra.  
> Prompt: None  
> Not preferred: Het

1.  
Rumors spread around the Reservation of a white man who was coming to preach his religion to them. It wasn't the first time Vin had encountered a Christian Preacher, but it was the first time since he had come to live with the tribe.

At only twelve years old, Vin found himself questioning the beliefs of the people he lived with, searching for his own truths. He wondered if the man would be able to offer him some guidance that he had missed.

It wasn't just a man who came. There was a woman too, the man's sister according to one of Vin's brothers, and it was she who came to him instead of the man, sitting with him for hours as he questioned her about God and his own place in the world.

"You don't need to give up one set of beliefs over another," she told him, her hands soft as they brushed his hair from his face. "My father would probably disagree, but my brother and I respect all beliefs."

As she left, later that day, Vin had held out a hand to her. "Thank you for your words, Hannah," he said, remembering to treat her with the respect his momma had taught him. "I will never forget what you've said."

Aside from her words, the only thing he later remembered was the smile she had given him, and how its warmth had spread through him like a summer's day.

 

2.  
The war was something that Vin prayed he would one day be able to forget. He had killed before he had joined up, and would probably kill after he left the Army, but never had he murdered so many men in such a short period of time.

The blood seemed to soak through his clothes, staining his skin, and he wondered if he would ever be clean again.

The sound of death surrounded him, men of his unit falling to the ground in front of him, behind him, next to him. He pushed forward, his eyes focused ahead, unable to look back.

"Tanner. Help me…" The man next to him, barely more than a boy, whose name he couldn't even remember, had collapsed, blood poured through his fingers where his hands clutched at his stomach. Vin dropped to his knees, oblivious to the gunfire and the screams, aware only of the boy who was pleading for his help.

"I… I don't know what to do," Vin confessed, holding his own hands over the boy's. "MEDIC!" he shouted, knowing that it was unlikely that one would arrive in time.

He watched helplessly as the boy closed his eyes, his breathing becoming more and more shallow. The hands beneath his loosened their grip and fell away from the wound. A hand gripped his shoulder.

"It's okay," came the voice, soft and gentle. "Let me take him now."

Vin looked up into the eyes of the dark-skinned man standing over him and nodded. He let go of the boy's hands and stood up. Without turning around, he walked back towards the fighting.

 

3.  
Vin didn't have anything against cathouses, but he wasn't particularly fond of them either. The idea of just walking in there and picking which girl he wanted seemed a little impersonal to him. Sure, he'd visited them himself once or twice, but it always felt as though something that needed to be got out of the way rather than something special.

But it had been a long time since he'd been with anyone, male or female, and the opportunity to just pay someone with no strings or emotions attached seemed like the easiest way to scratch the itch that he had.

Caught in a decision that didn't want to be made, he hovered outside the non-descript building, watching along the length of the near-deserted street. A few people passed by him – a couple of local ranch hands heading to the saloon, and a man he recognized as one of the bankers in town – but no one paid any mind to the cathouse and its occupants.

Two storeys up, Vin heard the sound of a window creaking open and a high pitched giggle. He stepped back in time to see a small stack of clothes land on the ground in front of him, followed by twin thumps as a pair of heavy boots landed on top.

From the window, he saw the outline of a man who appeared to be wearing nothing more than a pair of long johns and a hat. As Vin watched, the man climbed through the window and onto the roof of the porch. With red under garments the only thing standing between his bare skin and the night-time chill, the man slid along the wooden struts and around to the side of the building. Vin heard a muffled "oof" as the man jumped to the ground.

Not knowing the full story behind the man's speedy exit from the building, Vin took it as a sign. He turned his back and walked towards the saloon.

 

4.  
Vin stood in the Sheriff's office, watching as the newest Wanted posters were tacked up on the wall. He scanned across the faces and the values printed neatly on the bottom, balancing out the amount of time and effort against the potential reward.

"That one's worth a pretty penny." The deputy pointed at one of the posters. "You could near retire on that amount."

Vin had no idea what the words said, but the image bothered him. The drawing was crude, as they often were, and offered little in the way of identifying features. Vin had learned long ago that relying on the faces wasn't going to get him very far, but there was something in the eyes of this man that sent shivers down his spine. A desperation, anger, sadness.

He'd seen that same look before in a bar across the border in Mexico. A man who stayed in the darkened corner, hand clutching a dirty glass, eyes scanning every person who stepped foot inside the place. Vin had stared back for a moment, their eyes locked, until the hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end. There weren't many men who scared him anymore, but this stranger had managed it.

Vin had no idea if this was the same man or not, but he knew this was one bounty he wasn't willing to pick up. Instead, he turned his attention towards the next poster. It offered him a smaller reward but the face it showed didn't send shivers down his spine.

 

5.  
It wasn't often that Vin had to chase a bounty across State lines, and he wondered if it was worth the effort in the end, but the money offered was better than he had made in the last two years, and he was close now. He knew it.

He had no idea what the man's story was, other than that he had killed a Pinkerton, and he really didn't care. All he knew was that the bounty was for the man dead or alive, and it was usually easier to work with the former option.

The streets of the town were busy, but Vin saw the familiar face across from him and didn't hesitate.

"Rutherford!" he shouted, his shotgun already aimed at the man. "Come quietly or I'll shoot you where you stand."

Predictably, the man turned to run. Taking a breath to steady himself, Vin gave no more warning, shooting the man in the leg, dropping him to the ground.

As he approached his bounty, now writhing on the floor, a stream of curses exploding from his mouth, Vin became aware of a young man standing off to one side, watching every move he made. From his clean brown suit and ridiculous hat, it was clear that the kid wasn't local. He was staring intently, as though he was watching some kind of dime store novel playing out in front of him.

Hell, Vin thought as he looked back at Rutherford, the kid had probably never even seen someone shot before.

 

6.  
The town was larger than most he'd passed through in the last four months. Glancing behind him as he tied his horse to a wooden railing, he allowed himself a moment to dream of nothing more than a hot bath and some warm food.

In the darkness of the winter's night, he had seen the saloon from the other end of the street, its gas lamps flickering, enticing people like moths to a flame. He was drawn, not to the brightness, but to the sounds from inside – chattering, laughter, happiness. More intoxicating than the finest wine or a beautiful smile. It called to him, offering him warmth and comfort.

Tentatively, he eased the doors open, the light and noise from inside slamming into him, almost knocking him backwards with their intensity. He inhaled, taking in both the familiar and the unfamiliar scents, reminding him of a past long lost.

A roar came from a darkened corner, and Vin watched as the shadowed figures tossed their cards down, all but one of them pushing away from the table. Disregarded chairs fell to the floor, bottles and mugs were spilled. But one figure sat deadly still, as if oblivious to the chaos surrounding him. Even in the darkness, Vin could see the man smile, a glint of gold reflecting in the candlelight.

In the next moment, as Vin watched, guns were drawn and accusations began to fly.

He'd seen enough similar scenarios to know that no one would be entirely safe if the drunken gamblers chose to take the law into their own hands. Bloodshed was not something he was craving. Backing out of the door he had only just entered, Vin pushed thoughts of food and rest out of his mind. It wasn't worth risking his life, not when he'd come this far.

Turning around and leaving the warmth of the saloon, he untied his horse, allowing his fingers to linger for a moment in the animal's mane.

"You lyin', cheatin' son of a gun, Smith. I'll kill ya." The voice was harsh and clear, even from the street outside, and Vin had no doubt that every uttered word was meant. In one fluid movement, he had mounted his horse and was leaving the town.

Perhaps his next stop would provide him what he craved.


End file.
